“You want to ask, am I lonely?” – 31st birthday reflections

I celebrated my 31st birthday this week (sorry that caused the delay in getting this out…) and in the spirit of Pema Chödrön — “Never underestimate the power of compassionately recognizing what’s going on inside” –I’d like to admit that I spent the weeks before my birthday feeling pretty terrified of the uncertain mess I had gotten my life into. After making a collection of unconventional decisions over the last seven years, I felt disappointed in the place I had landed at this age. When I was younger, I never expected to be 31 and in the space I am now: single and questioning practically everything about sexuality and romantic relationships in general, still not managing to make a decent living off of work that I truly love. 

Then, on the actual day of my birthday, I found this Adrienne Rich poem: 

“You’re wondering if I’m lonely

OK then, yes, I’m lonely

as a plane rides lonely and level

on its radio beam, aiming

across the Rockies

for the blue-strung aisles

of an airfield on the ocean. 

You want to ask, am I lonely?

Well, of course, lonely

as a woman driving across country

day after day, leaving behind

mile after mile

little towns she might have stopped

and lived and died in, lonely.”

Unfortunately, as much as I try not to, I have spent a lot of time still thinking of my “little towns,” the places I briefly visited throughout my 20’s, and could have lived and died in:

-My hometown in Florida, where I could have stayed forever as so many others did, instead of deciding to live far away from home. 

-The serious relationship I was in at 24, with a wealthy man who wanted to quickly get married and have children.  

-The serious relationship I was in at 28, with a man who I thought to be the love of my life, who then began showing signs of emotional and physical abuse. 

-The traditional approach to sexuality and relationships in general that I held throughout my early 20’s, which refused to consider attraction to anyone who wasn’t straight, cis, and male, and prioritized romantic, monogamous relationships above all others. 

-Every safe job I’ve had in the last ten years that brought me financial security and perhaps external validation, but didn’t ultimately align with my values or bring me joy. 

I love Adrienne’s poem because her word choice tells the truth: there IS a loneliness to living this way, although it isn’t the same kind of loneliness others imagine. I am not lonely because I am single, or because I freelance alone writing from the desk in my room, or because I am a woman in her thirties without her own “family” or a concrete sense of “home.” Instead, it’s a loneliness of knowing something to be deeply true, but fearing you won’t be able to handle acting on it. It’s the loneliness of coming to terms with your own life, but knowing it will make everything harder — especially finding others who have done the same, who can truly relate to you, and affirm you when you need it.

On bad days, I wonder if authenticity is even worth it: couldn’t it be better to simply have a life of easy work and company, to be surrounded by a community, even if they may not love you the way you may have always wanted to be loved? But then, I am reminded of that quote from Robin Williams: “I used to think that the worst thing in life was to end up alone. It’s not. The worst thing in life is to end up with people who make you feel alone.” A friend told me something similar this weekend “By living like this, you are bound to have waves of doubt and loneliness every so often. But if you hadn’t lived this way, the waves would have been bigger, and longer.” 

Yesterday afternoon, I started re-reading a journal of mine from when I was 26 and living in Cape Town, and I found this passage:  

“I had lunch with a college student from my university today, and as much as she reminded me of myself at that age — asking a hundred questions about what to do with her future, where to live, where to work, how to make money — I found myself feeling so utterly distant from her.  I am no longer 21 and thinking that I can figure out the world if I ask the right questions and see the right things. I am focused on so much more than the logistics.” 

I think five years later, on this birthday, I needed that reminder. In that same journal, I saw this stanza — from the poem “Fireflies” by Tagore, my favorite during that time — jotted down on the bottom of a page: 

“These paper boats of mine 

​are meant to dance

on the ripples of hours

and not reach any destination.”

In this outcome-and-product-obsessed society of ours, what I have to “show” for my life at 31 are just my own paper boats — my writing, my adventures, the cities I’ve traveled to, the people I’ve loved in each. For now, I will try to focus on keeping them afloat and dancing, not thinking too much about where they will sail to next. 

​Rebecca Solnit wrote “Trace it far back enough and this very moment in your life becomes a rare species, the result of a strange evolution.” Somehow, my life strangely evolved to create this moment I’m experiencing right now, and it will certainly evolve again to create something new and powerful and weird and lovely next. And in the meantime, I guess I can handle a little loneliness. Adrienne’s poem ends: 

“If I’m lonely

it must be the loneliness

of waking first, of breathing

dawns’ first cold breath on the city

of being the one awake

in a house wrapped in sleep– 

If I’m lonely

it’s with the rowboat ice-fast on the shore

in the last red light of the year

that knows what it is, that knows it’s neither

ice nor mud nor winter light

but wood, with a gift for burning.”